Safari - Part 4 Namibia and the Skeleton Coast

After our morning safari in the Okavango Delta we retraced our travels back to Victoria Falls to catch a flight to Windhoek, the capital of Namibia.  As previously mentioned, Hoek means “corner” in Dutch.  Since Franchhoek means French Corner you can probably guess what Windhoek means.   We arrived in our locally owned guesthouse in the early evening.  Early the next morning we drove through the city center to the small airstrip for our flight to Damaraland in north central Namibia. 

Windhoek is circled in lower third, our landing strip is circled in upper third near the coast, and our drive is in black

We regret we didn’t have at least a day to explore Windhoek.  It is a very clean city, with interesting Dutch and German architecture.  

Lovely history Dutch church in Windhoek

We heard it also has several good museums, including a one dedicated to the genocide of the indigenous people of Namibia (the Namba, the San, and the Herero tribes) by the German Empire at the turn of the century.  This is sadly and shockingly documented in the book “The Kaiser’s Holocaust”, which records the pre-colonization, occupation, and destruction of the local people.  Well worth the read, particularly if traveling here.  One interesting set of connections, which gave rise to the title, is the Imperial German Governor sent to colonize the region was the father of Herman Goering, one of the Nazi’s notorious leaders.   As you know, Goering created the Gestopo, the Nazi police, and was commander of the Luftwaffe until he was removed from power by Hitler for failing to stop allied bombing.  He then retired to loot the art work from the Holocaust jews. He was convicted of war crimes but committed suicide before his hanging.  He probably learned his racist views and extreme rendition from his father who committed what is considered the first genocide of the Twentieth Century.

Our fight north was in a four seater Cessna 220.  I got to sit next to the pilot for our hour long flight.  It was a reminder of my student pilot days and it took me awhile to remember the checklist as I followed all his preflight, take-off and flying tasks.  I think our pilot was fairly new as a commercial pilot as he checked and double checked all the steps.  Glad he did, but he was not instilling confidence they way our pilot to Okavango did doing all the checks as second nature.  

Early morning departure in Cessna 220

As he approached landing on the gravel runway I thought “man, he is coming in hot”.  Typically when landing a Cessna your airspeed is about 95 knots downwind, then you put flaps down, turn to final, and reduce airspeed to around 65 knots.  The pilot was downwind at 160 knots and the same as we descended to the runway on final.  I what thinking “what the hell”, until he pulled up slightly and buzzed the field about 10 feet above the ground to clear any wildlife, banked steeply to avoid the mountain, circled around and was normal airspeed downwind and landing.  In the middle of nowhere, on a gravel strip, a Land Cruiser and our guide, Alpha, were waiting for us.  He was the sixth child in his family with all girls as his older siblings.  In the tradition of naming children here, he was named to be the Alpha male.  

Runway is lower left to upper right.  Circling to downwind after buzzing the field.  

Land Cruiser meets our plane in middle of Damaraland

Eighty percent of Namibia is desert, and while Namibia has wildlife safaris, particularly in the salt pans of Etosha National Park to our east, the country’s primary interest is Geography, Geology, and local culture.  Our first stop was Twyfelfontein (meaning Doubtful Spring - in this desert that’s an understatement).  Twyfelfontein lies some 1800 feet above sea level and there are more than 2,500 rock engravings on 212 slabs of rock, with an additional 13 panels of rock paintings.  Stone age hunters were probably drawn to this small perennial spring because it was the only water in the area. The art is probably the work of the San tribe hunters, chiseled through the rock incrustation to produce their images.  Over time, and in the dry desert, a patina formed over the engravings protecting them from weathering.  Many of the slabs are thought to be like school chalkboards where the young were educated about animal prints and silhouettes for hunting.  This is different than many European rock art which tend to celebrate the hunt.  

Animal hoofs in upper right and circles with dots are maps to water holes

School chalk board with Giraffes, Lions, Antelope, Rhinoceros

From here we drove a short distance to lunch at an isolated lodge/restaurant nestled in slabs of rock with other Twyfelfontein petroglyphs.  After lunch we drove several hours to Grootburg lodge, a community owned and staffed lodge built high in the mountains above Grootburg pass.  The dining hall and ten or so rock cabins are built on the edge of a cliff overlooking a tremendous unoccupied valley displaying the layers of geology that make up Damaraland.  

Our cabin

View from our rock hut at Grootburg

 After our drive we thought we’d have an evening to ourselves to discuss what we saw, and take a break from a “stranger”.  We were surprised then when Alpha asked what time he should join us for dinner.  Our thought was that he’d eat with other guides at the lodge.  Since we’d be with him all waking hours for six days we thought both he and we would need a break.  This first night we were filled with trepidation, because our experience in Georgia (Caucasus) with a driver/guide all day every day, dinner was VERY uncomfortable with long stretches of silence.  But this evening marked the beginning of a great relationship with Alpha.  As days went by and we explored all nature of topics on our long drives, we each became more comfortable with the other’s political views and personal beliefs.  As he said later, with some guests he stays very superficial and even out of discussions.  But by the end of the trip we became very close.  Without Alpha, the trip would have been much less informative, personal, and enjoyable.  We consider each other brothers from another mother.

Our first full day in Namibia was an outing I looked forward to throughout the planning.  I knew South Africa would feel very European, and not much opportunity for cultural exchange going on wine tours and driving the Garden Route. I also anticipated that the Safaris would mostly be looking at wildlife while staying in pretty upscale tent camps - not something most locals can afford.  Though there was more cultural engagement with the guides and staff than I originally thought.  But in Namibia we scheduled a visit to a Himba tribe family compound.  While I had no idea what to expect in terms of the engagement, from the descriptions it sounded like we’d experience the way the tribe still lives in the remote bush/desert.  This would not be visiting reenactments of cultures past, as we have seen in other developing/developed countries, but actually living a lifestyle that is not much different from centuries ago.  Alpha advised us of the process we’d experience.  They’d demonstrate their cultural traditions, then we’d have an opportunity to look at and buy some of their handicraft and make a donation.  At the end of our visit they’d perform a traditional dance.  

The scene is out of 1950s National Geographic magazine.  Except the bare breasted women did not leave me as titalated as it did when I was ten.  The tribe is matriarchal with the women taking care of the village and children, while the men are gone for months at a time living in the bush tending their herds.  The women are topless, barefoot, and spend three hours a day preparing and maintaining their hair and skin.  The young men in the compound, who were temporarily back from the bush, were dressed in hand-off western style jerseys and shorts.  No traditional clothing or ornaments for them except their lower teeth.  A generation or two ago, if one got tetanus, lockjaw would set in for several months and one would starve to death.  As a preventative, they would pull the adult lower front four teeth so the individual could eat until the lock jaw subsided.  Although tetanus is no longer a problem, they carry the tradition and still remove the teeth. 

When we arrived, the Matriarch was seated on the ground with several younger women tending her hair.  The infants were suckling on various mothers, and children were playing with each other on the goat droppings that covered the area.  They are barefoot and naked with snot encrusted noses. The compound is a collection of huts surrounding the stick fenced corral for their goats.  The entrance to the corral faces the matriarchs hut.  Their huts are framed with sticks set into the sand for walls, and across the walls for the roof; then covered in a coating of mud and cow dung.  One hut is set aside for their periodic smoke bath and laundry, and another for cooking utensils.  To “bathe” they place herbs on a flat stone and ignite it.  Once it is smoldering, they place an inverted cone over it to concentrate the smoke out the top where they either drape their clothes to disinfect, or “bathe” their underarms and private parts.  They have no water to bathe. 

Dung covered huts of the Himba Village

Matriarch of 12 kids at 43 years old

On of several mothers suckling their children

Young boys walking around on goat dung

Demonstration of igniting herbs to bathe in the smoke

The women make a mixture of clay, ochre, and fat and smear it over their exposed skin to protect it from the sun, and beautify themselves.   Their uncut hair is plaited and twisted into Rasta like strands and then encased in a red clay mixture that is allowed to dry into hard pottery.  The ends of their strands are left fluffy tuffs to cover children carried on their back and protect them from the sun.  They wear a variety of ornaments on their clothes which signify marital and political status.

Skin lotion (yes, they applied it to us)

Clay covered Rasta hair with Tuffs to cover children carried on their backs.

After our tour of the huts and bathing, they gathered in a circle with their handicraft displayed on a cloth in front of them.  Out of courtesy we bought a couple of items, and made a donation into the community jar.  They then assembled in a semi-circle and different women and men would dance.  It was a very aggressive stomping and spinning performance, and the women’s unconstrained breasts succumbed to centrifugal forces like the music of the spheres spinning in orbit.  When we got to the Land Cruiser to leave, Alpha brought out bags of rice and other food stuffs for them. They took their donations and without a gesture, turned and returned to their compound.  

Robin checking out handicraft - mom to mom (Note red ochre on Robin's right hand)

Ready to dance

Music of the Spheres

Departing with their donations

Before departing Alpha took out a bottle of Hand Sanitizer and generously wiped his hands down and offered us the same.  He then let us in on another reality.  When he went into the compound before we entered, the women were hungover and liquor bottles were strewn across the dirt floor of their huts.  He told them to clean it up and straighten out before we came in.  He also explained on a previous visit that he took a cloth to wipe one child’s snotty nose, and they dismissed him “oh, you’re so western now”.  On this trip he offered to take a mother with her child that clearly had an eye infection to the local clinic.  She refused because then she’d have to find a ride back to her compound.  

We left very conflicted.  Of course it was fascinating to step back in time.  But we felt badly for they were so poor and living in squalor.  Despite several initial questions, they had no interest in engagement.  (I understand they probably see many groups who have asked/answered many questions).  And from a western point of view, the lifestyle of just sitting around in goat dung waiting for the next group in a week, was pretty disheartening. No noble savage here.  Admittedly, there is not much “to do” living in the desert.  I was reminded of Asahel Curtis’ photographs of the Native American in the late nineteenth century.  Their culture and lifestyle was destroyed, so the only means to survive was to be on display in a Wild West show and other performances as an artifact.  While the Himba still live their traditional way, the they are becoming dependent on tourism, one visit at a time.  As we left, one young man with missing teeth, about 22, approached Robin and asked for money.  On our drive back we saw two little boys run out of their compound toward our vehicle, and one probably not four yet, stuck his hand out for money.  In twenty years the Himba will be assimilated and gone as a lifestyle - like the Alphas before.  And that’s probably good considering they live in filth, are attached to the bottle, and now subsist on performances for money.  

On drive back boys ran out to beg for money

Our next day we went looking for the elusive desert elephant.  This species has evolved and adapted to the desert conditions.  How Alpha spotted them on the hillside a half a mile or more away camouflaged against the rock attests to his skills. It was impressive to see a herd of elephants slowing ascending a rocky hillside.  

Illusive desert elephants climbing up hillside over 1/2 mile away.  (See baby in between the two?)

Robin watching elephants for about half an hour so they would emerge from the bush up the hill

After leaving Grootburg the following day we embarked on a seven hour drive to Swakopmund, a german seaside resort in the desert.  Instead of the fastest route on an inland National Highway, we drove the direct route along the Skeleton Coast on dirt/sand roads.  So called initially because of the beached whale skeletons, and now because of the numerous shipwrecks, both historic wooden boats now rotting on shore, as well as modern craft.  It was this coast that made reaching Cape Hope so difficult as there is no water or wildlife for hundreds of miles after a long voyage.  Indirectly, it created the settlement of Capetown; for after they passed this coast the early explorers and seafarers need to replenish their supplies before rounding the Cape.  Eventually, the Dutch Jan van Reebeek saw a business opportunity and established a trading post to supply the vessels in Capetown with water from Table Mountain and local game meats.  Swakopmund was a nice respite from the desert with irrigated palm trees, greenery, beaches, and nice restaurants.  But you couldn’t escape that this was a german tourist destination, not for the locals except as wait staff. They lived outside the city in the dusty shanty towns.  

Skeleton Coast

Abandoned Oil drill rig.  Nothing found

Whale bone along coast

Old wooden ship wreck

Jackel surviving in the desert.  He came to explore our lunch spot.

Modern ship wreck

Swakopmund from Hotel (note the greenery - all irrigated in the desert!)

Old German architecture

Flamingos near Swakopmund 

The final destination of our six week African adventure was Sossusvlei (pronounced soos-sus-flay) in Namibia/Naukluft National Park, about five hours from Swakopmund.  As previously mentioned this is the worlds largest non-arctic national park.  The main attraction here are the red sand dunes and striking desert landscape.  We stayed in our second favorite lodge in Africa:  Hoodia.  

Self Explanatory

Hoodia lodge at foot of hills.
(Do you see the lion head in the mountain? - Center top a cliff shadow makes the eye, nose to left)

Our cabin with view of the lion head

Sunset from lodge

Stanley and Livingston on dune ridge

Bill and Robin Summit

Alpha's map of Southern Africa with rivers (see his stick on left?)

Sossusvlei (vlei means dead - so the white areas are so dry nothing lives anymore)

One time trees grew here, but no more.  (See people at bottom for scale) 

Climate change anyone?

After exploring the dunes, the next morning Alpha dropped us off at another gravel airstrip for our flight to Jo’burg, and then home.  I asked him once what tribe he is from and he replied “I am 120% Namibian.”  When we said goodbyes, he teared up, as did we.  After six days we became very close.  We will miss this wonderful man, and friend, that wants his country to succeed.

Alpha and Robin at departure.

This post is already longer than I planned, so I won’t do my geography/geology geek thing explaining how the layers of Grootburg's cliffs, these dunes, and the Kalahari desert to the east are the result of Gondwanaland splitting into Africa and South America.  But it’s a fascinating story.  Check it out, or better yet, come here. 

From here we began our long journey home, and experienced our first real culture shock of the trip - our next post.